


The Drugs Never Work

by suicider00m



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drugs, M/M, Not Happy, Recovery, Relapsing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 13:13:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8447290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suicider00m/pseuds/suicider00m
Summary: Ryan should know better.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hidefromeveryone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hidefromeveryone/gifts).



> title from Teenagers by My Chemical Romance

“Hello?” Brendon blinked wearily, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. His phone’s ringtone wasn’t as effective as his alarm clock.

_“...”_

He sighed. If this was another prank phone call—

_“Brendon?”_

Not a prank call, then. 

“Ryan, is that you?” He sat up, yawning as he glanced over to the clock on his bedside table. The glowing numbers were blurry to his tired eyes but he could make out 2:13 a.m.

_“Yeah, I— I need you to pick me up, can you pick me up?”_

Brendon sighed, forcing himself to roll out of bed. “Yeah, baby, I’m on my way.”

He found Ryan on the side of the street, sitting on the curb and shaking uncontrollably. He felt a brief rush of anger as he saw the occasional person walk by, not bothering to even ask if the boy was okay, but that subsided soon enough into reluctant relief; they couldn’t afford another hospital trip.

He pulled up next to Ryan, leaving the car running as he hopped out and quickly made his way over to the boy’s side.

“Ryan?”

He looked up at Brendon suddenly, eyes as wide as the moon. Before Ryan said anything, Brendon knew it was going to be a bad night. 

“Took somethin’ bad, B. ‘M sorry, didn’t mean to.” And then he broke down. 

Brendon just sighed and did his best to push the sobbing boy into the backseat of their car, buckling him in and activating the child lock. Hopefully Ryan would be too busy wallowing in self pity to undo the seatbelt.

“Brendon, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to— I didn’t know, I swear.”

Brendon didn’t react, just kept his eyes on the road as he drove them home. He’d heard it before, the apologies and justifications and whatever else managed to make its way out of Ryan’s mouth.

“Look, I— once we get home, you can fuck me, okay? You can— you can fuck me, alright?”

Brendon used to feel sick when he heard those words, but now they barely registered. He had to push away the thought of just how many people Ryan had offered that to, and just how many took him up on it. 

“I’m sorry, Bren, I’m so, so sorry. I don’t wanna be a problem, I’m sorry. I don’t— I wish you didn’t have to deal with me, I don’t know why you still do. I’m sorry.”

Brendon had to bite his tongue to keep from snapping at the boy to shut the fuck up. He was tired, so _fucking_ tired, and this was just the start of their night. 

He’d have to call into work tomorrow, let his already-pissed boss know he was coming in late so he could make sure his boyfriend didn’t die. For the next three or four hours, Brendon would have to hold a sobbing, puking, drugged-up Ryan as he babbled endlessly about how much of a shitty person he was. Brendon had put up with his attention-seeking behavior for too long to pity him, but he’d sigh and tell Ryan he wasn’t that bad, if only to keep his boyfriend from a purposeful OD.

After the high wore off and Ryan would start to come down, Brendon would have to feed him crackers and make sure he drank some water before he passed out in bed, leaving Brendon to set up the nightstand with everything the boy might need before he would be out the door and on his way to work, so exhausted that he couldn’t be bothered to care as his boss sent him glares all day. He’d grab a nap in the back room during his lunch break, and it would help but by the end of the day he would be nearly asleep. 

He’d come home to find Ryan still passed out, and he’d sleep on the couch because he couldn’t stand to sleep next to his boyfriend at that moment. The next morning, Ryan would be up and about, making coffee as a pathetic attempt at an apology. Brendon would take it anyway.

“You can’t keep doing this,” he would say. 

“Okay,” Ryan would say.

And things would get better. Brendon would take him to AA meetings, support groups, things like that. He’s sit in the back and listen to sob stories, hoping— _praying_ that Ryan would be one of the successes. 

He’d hold him through the withdrawal, clean him of puke and piss and lock him inside the apartment when things got really bad. And eventually, Ryan would be okay; he’d stop shaking, start eating again, laugh and smile while he was sober. He’d start to be the Ryan that Brendon fell in love with.

That’s when he’d get the 2 a.m. phone call.

**Author's Note:**

> free addiction hotline: 1-800-662-4357
> 
>  
> 
> hmu @ twentyoneboyfriends on tumblr


End file.
